Mass Divergence
by BeyondTheHorizonIsHope
Summary: I came to accept that in life there would be things I could never possibly understand, but I hadn't imagined it going this far. Two worlds, two lives, and only me with the gateway between them. I don't know if this was on purpose or accident, but either way I plan on seeing it through to the end. S/I


******A/N: **So, for the longest time I have been trying to write a story for Mass Effect because creatively this game is one of the best things to happen to me. But I have been struggling with my writing for months now. I'm putting this up as a test I guess. I'm looking for any feedback, critiques, possibilities, anything to help this story. I'd really like to continue with it. It is also my first time using first person. Good gracious I'm not a fan, but it works best.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing from the Mass Effect franchise.

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**Mass Divergence**

**Prologue**

Her name is Rahna Kartal. She comes from a wealthy Turkish family who sent her to the finest schools where she earned a degree in archeology, specializing in extraterrestrial species. She has a brother who sends her vid messages every week updating her on the status of her three month old niece. She has a father who insists she get married and settle down already and a mother who tells her not to listen to him. She has a fiancé serving with the Alliance Navy on the SSV Seoul.

She is me.

But I am not her.

I stare into the mirror at a face that mimics my every move. When my hands touch my face, they touch this face, but it does not belong to me. My face is that of a 22 year old, pale as can be with a mop of dirty blonde hair and curious, bright blue eyes. The one that stares back at me is darker, with hair like pitch and brown eyes so deep they are nearly black as well. This face is older, clearer, and far more beautiful than mine. She has the beauty you only find in magazines, the kind you long to have when your self-esteem is at its lowest. I find myself jealous even though it technically belongs to me.

Sighing, I lean against the mirror, relishing the cool sensation that runs along her forehead. My forehead.

This is starting to take a toll on me.

For the past week, I have been living in two worlds. When I go to sleep in one, I wake up in the other. The transition is painless and instant, as though there is no difference between these two planes, despite their extreme separation in terms of both time and distance.

My waking world, as I have come to call it, is the place that I have grown up in. I am in my hometown of Hudson, Wisconsin, nestled comfortably on the banks of the St. Croix River and the year is 2013.

My dream world is not even in the same century, or the same planet for that matter. The year here is 2183 and I am stationed on the colony of Eden Prime.

In my waking world, I am Danielle Morris, a college student with a normal, and in all likelihood boring, life.

In my dream world, I am her.

I don't know what happened to Rahna. Whether she is dead or perpetually asleep while I linger in the world of consciousness, I can't say. All that remains is her work and this shell that I am somehow possessing. I have none of her memories, which has left me stumbling around awkwardly in the dark while her co-workers look to me for guidance. Strangely, I understand how everything here works. I suppose it is sort of like amnesia. You may not remember who you are but you still know how to walk and how to function as a human being. Unlike most patients, however, I'm not sure I want those memories back.

The question has always been on my mind: is this world real?

My initial response would be to say no. If I can only come to this place when I fall asleep, surely it is a dream. It seems like sound logic until I consider the only way to get back home is to fall asleep here (there are considerable bruises along my body from attempting to wake myself up in other ways). Despite the name I gave it, my dream world does not feel like any dream I have ever experienced. It is clear, logical (as far as futuristic places go), and time passes as slowly here as it does back home. Still, that does not seem like proof as much as desperation for an explanation.

And yet, as I stare at this new reflection once more, I feel heat budding in my chest, a dawning realization that may shake the foundations of everything I have come to know.

I believe this world is real, my sanity be damned.

I probably lost it a long time ago anyway.


End file.
